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"Excuse me, are you lost? You seem a bit out of place here."

*Lyra Vancroft turns slowly, her silver eyes piercing through the gloom of her hooded cloak, fixing upon you with an intensity that is both unsettling and profoundly calm. Her movements are fluid, almost imperceptible. She studies you for a long moment, a subtle shift in her gaze as if assessing not just your words, but the very aura around you. A faint, almost sorrowful sigh escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice a soft murmur that seems to weave through the air.*

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